


Open your eyes

by Meero94



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:53:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1658819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meero94/pseuds/Meero94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He fell in love with the way she talked and the way she fixed her glasses. He fell in love with her hand gestures and her way of thinking. He fell in love with the color of her eyes and the way she looked at him. He never thought he'd lose any of those things. Not until the day he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A tragedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a repost of an old fic, so you may have already read it on my FF account (under the same username) or on my Tumblr. It is, however, slightly edited. As in a few words here and there. 
> 
> Enjoy reading!

He sat in the corner staring at the door.

Oliver had become very accustomed to this spot of the lair in the past few months. He always turned off the lights and sat in that corner against the column. Waiting. Always waiting. For _her._

She had waited for him many times before.

She had waited for a year before he finally kissed her. She had waited for another before the words "I love you" had escaped his lips. She had also waited for him to finally open up to her.

Bit by bit, one baby step after another, Felicity had witnessed Oliver's change. She made it happen. She used to stroke his head when he woke up from a nightmare, despite how dangerous sleeping next to him could be; she never let him sleep alone. She used to soothe and comfort him when he woke up gasping for breath. She’d offer him tea and turn on all the lights in her small apartment, at those times. She'd lead them to her tiny sofa, turn on the TV, and start babbling about the latest show she watched until his breathing came back to normal and his lips twitched in amusement. She babbled a lot. He used to kiss her to stop the babbling.

They stayed at her apartment most nights, whether they returned there from a date or a long night at the lair. Felicity would often drag him there when he overworked himself or needed a reminder that he was just as human as the rest of them.

_Even heroes need rest, Oliver._ Is what she used to say, and she always said it with that exasperated tone she had, scrunching up her nose slightly and crossing her arms –but her eyes remained fond and loving. He loved her eyes.

Back when she dragged him home each night, she used to order a ridiculous amount of Chinese takeaway –that they'd eat out of boxes- then complain about having too many leftover boxes for days. She often rented movies made in the 5 years Oliver spent on the island, and watched his reactions as he watched the movie for that night. She told him she loved his smart remarks. He told her he loved her taste in movies. After that they did whatever she felt like. Sometimes she asked him to dance with her. Sometimes she watched old reruns of shows and cried at some parts while he held her and tried real hard not to smile. Other times, they just laid down on her sofa, their feet entangled, her head on his chest as she read a book and his hand playing with her hair as he went through some folder Diggle gave him. At those times, Felicity dropped whatever she was reading when she felt him tensing up then pulled the folder out of his hands, kissed his cheek, and made him voice his thoughts out loud. For him, Felicity's apartment was the world made small.

For long after Tommy's death, Oliver threw himself into being The Arrow. He returned each night worn out and tired but sat here in this very spot until he fell asleep with his head laid back against the wall. It took her a couple of months, but one night she finally broke through to him and made him sleep on the couch at his office upstairs. After that, she stayed late every night and talked him into going up to his office. It became a ritual. The first of many they'd later have.

Felicity was the one who got him to cry for the first time after Tommy's death. It was exactly four months after his best friend died, and she hugged him tight through it all. She didn't let go when he started shouting that it should have been him, she didn't let go when he tried to get out of her grasp and shut off again, she didn't let go even when he physically tried to push her away. She never did let go. That night was the first time she slept by his side. He held on to her all night long. After that, he was always the one reaching out for her.

She started out as the IT girl, became his friend, then his best friend, then the love of his life. She would have been his wife if it weren't for that night. That one night that destroyed Oliver's world all over again.

He sat straighter as he replayed that night in his head. He had played the memory so many times that it became worn out at the edges, the pictures a little blurry and the sound as if coming through thick water. It resembled a nightmare. It _was_ every nightmare he had had since that day.

He felt the wetness on his cheeks as he stared at the chair where she used to sit. The computer screens that she used to excitedly point at, now stared accusingly back at him.

_You could have saved her._ The chair screamed.

_It should have been you._ The screens corrected.

So he finally allowed it; with a long exhale, he allowed the memories of that night to abuse him all over again.

He had invited her out on a date to a restaurant that night, the same one they had their first date on. It wasn't the fanciest place in town but that was because Felicity never liked such places; she said they made her too nervous and like she'd end up stabbing herself with one of the many forks if she embarrassed herself. So their first date ended up in a cozy restaurant at the edge of the Glades, with candles and quite music playing in the background. He decided that a dinner there would be the perfect start to their night. He planned on proposing that night. He'd take her to _their_ apartment later –because it became _theirs_ the first time she found his clothes thrown in her washing machine and had a stern talk with him about it being the twenty first century and _Oliver Queen, this place is yours as it's mine so I'm doing your laundry but you're cleaning the living room.-_ where he had prepared the cheesiest pathway of rose petals to the living room, in which he'd turn on the music, dance with her, then get down on one knee. He knew she would say yes.

They never made it to the dinner.

She did make it to the restaurant. He was late. She got shot.

He had ordered her a handmade ring, he picked the design out of a catalogue of jewelry masterpieces –where each piece was only made once on order then taken out of the book- and waited patiently as Thea remarked on each and every ring he picked. He asked for the inside to be engraved and they told him that it would take extra time that way, but he thought that they had all the time in the world back then, so why not wait. God was he wrong.

The shop said that they'd send the ring to him with an agent when it was done; it'd arrive precisely at the evening of the night he planned on proposing. It took a bit longer than planned for the man to arrive. Exactly ten minutes late. It took Oliver another twenty to get to the restaurant.

He arrived as the ambulances left. There was a shooting. At a restaurant. Who would have thought.

He remembers clearly how the fear paralyzed him for a second as he stepped out of the car. He remembers running towards the police car and demanding to know what happened. He remembers that for once, Officer Lance had no snarky remark to make. Instead, the older man had looked at his feet and recited how the shooting took place. He told Oliver that five people were dead, a few more in a critical condition. Felicity Smoak was one of the latter.

_Go to the hospital, after that ambulance._ Detective  Lance had pointed with a pained expression on his face. _You may see her before she… her injury looked bad, son._

Oliver made a chocked noise as the news hit him a thousand miles an hour. And when was the last time Lance had called him son?

He grabbed the green box in his pocket tightly as he sped to the hospital. Later he would learn everything that happened that night. Later he would find the man behind the shooting and make him beg for death. Later he'd make sure that the amount of money stolen won't begin to cover the cost of the surgeries that man would need. For now, he had to make sure _she_ was fine.

He made it to the hospital in a state halfway between shock and frenzy, Diggle two steps behind as Oliver had called and told him what happened. They both ran to the hallway the nurse pointed at.

At the end of that hallway was the Operation Room. Oliver had the thought that Tommy never made it to an OR; he would have lived if he had. Felicity will live. She had to.

Except for how wrong that was.

The thing about hospitals is that they see more tears than funerals and receive more prayers than churches. Oliver did cry and he did pray. For the first time in seven years he prayed. He learned that prayers weren't always answered.

He remembers the doctor coming out of the OR three hours later, Thea was there by then –he didn't remember how she knew or when she arrived- holding Oliver's hand tightly as her tears dried on her cheeks, Diggle stood up as the doctor approached and Oliver took a deep breath before doing the same. One look at the doctor's face told him all he needed to know. And yet he waited. He wanted that final blow aimed right at his heart. He wanted it to cut him so deep they'll have to rush him into that room and lay him besides the woman he loved. He waited for the words to leave the doctor's mouth.

And they did.

He remembers the words _internal bleeding_ and _severe lung damage_ and _the bullet too close to the vital organs_ and _coma with the chances of waking up low to none_ and finally _you need to decide if she's to be kept on life support.. That's assuming she'd survive the next 24 hours. Be prepared for the worst._

For the second time that night, Oliver started to pray.

Felicity did survive the 24 hours. And she spent two weeks after that in an ICU room, then the five months and a half ever since in a memorial ward in the hospital for comatose patients.

A coma. The doctors said she'll never wake up. He still waited for her to do so.

A week after Felicity was admitted into that ward, Oliver had left the hospital for the first time in three weeks; he had a mission to do.

Finding the man who did the shooting wasn't too hard. It took Oliver 12 hours to locate him, and after that The Arrow took over; after the man was found dead in an alley, his autopsy showed several broken ribs, a fractured skull and a punctured lung, but those injuries weren't what killed him; it was the arrow –right where the bullet in Felicity's body was found- that finished him off.

That night Diggle found Oliver, who was covered in blood, sitting in the corner of the lair for the first time ever. He made his friend get up and take a hot shower, eyeing his bruised knuckles warily but not commenting on them. Oliver did go into the shower, and he did stand under the stream, but the water that washed away the blood didn't wash away his tears.

Those exact memories were the ones to haunt Oliver's nights ever since. They were worn out and frayed at the edges, they were overplayed, and they hurt all the same.

The vigilante started striking twice as hard in the past few months. The vigilante went out three times a night some days. The Arrow cleared off half of the list in five months. He did more work in those months than he would have in a year's time otherwise. He died slowly as each night passed.

He went to the hospital every morning to see her then left, but not before asking the nurse about her condition. The same question everyday and an answer to match. After a while he just stopped asking.

His days became a painful replica of each other; he visits her, he goes to his company, he leaves for the lair and out to get some criminals, he visits her once again, another round of crime fighting –as Felicity used to call it- and then he comes to sit in his corner. He falls asleep there most nights.

Diggle had tried to get him to sleep somewhere else for about two months, and then he just started leaving a blanket laying on the floor and checking on Oliver every now and then.

Oliver didn't talk much anymore; he didn't talk much to begin with, that was Felicity's job. As a couple, Oliver and Felicity were surprising together. He was silent and observing most of the time, while she made wild hand gestures and chattered, and god did he miss her aimless chatter. He'd do anything to hear her rambling one more time. He'd give up his life and fortune just to hear her voice.

And he would hear her voice again. He just knew he would. All he had to do was wait.

Felicity Smoak had waited for a year before Oliver Queen had kissed her. She had waited for another before the words "I love you" had escaped his lips. She had waited an eternity before he opened up to her; and so he would wait an eternity for her to open her eyes.

He laid his head back against the concrete column and closed his eyes, praying, once again, for her to open hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed the story and I'd love to hear what you thought of it. 
> 
> Reviews/kudos would be greatly appreciated.  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> P.S: This story is complete but I was too tired to edit the second and third chapters tonight, so expect two updates tomorrow.


	2. Blue eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very much for the positive response to this story and I'm sorry in advance for any tears you may shed over this chapter. And here's to hoping you do shed tears. 
> 
> I'll tell you guys what I told my FF readers; I'm not responsible for how this chapter goes and I was born evil, so proceed with caution. 
> 
> Enjoy!

He was trapped in a memory.

Her scent surrounded him, her touch was everything he felt, her voice sweet and whispering in his ear, she was his and he was hers and nothing else mattered. It wasn't only her hands that touched his skin, but her words also touched his heart. She promised that she'd never leave, that she'd always stay. He believed her. His world burst into color and light as she made that promise, everything was much brighter than it had the right to be and for the first time in years, he felt whole. She was here. She'd stay here. She was in his arms.

Until she wasn't anymore.

He felt the loss of warmth the moment she was snatched away from him; he felt her hands struggle to hold on to his. He heard her voice calling weakly for him to save her.  _Oliver._ She called again and again, but no matter how fast he turned and no matter how frankly he looked around, he still couldn't see her. It was dark now; the colors gone and vanished the moment she was taken away from him. He felt the icy fingers of fear chasing away the warmth she left in her wake. He saw darkness approaching to dig a hole in his chest until the emptiness returned. He took a few shaky steps back until his back hit a wall and he could go no more. The darkness seemed to laugh as it reached for him and he thought of giving in to it, but as he closed his eyes to do just that –he heard his name being called with a voice he'd recognize anywhere.  _Her_ voice.  _His eyes flew wide open._

Oliver bolted up in his chair and gasped for breath. It took him a second to realize that what started out as a dream –a memory, really- had ended up as a nightmare.

 _Just a nightmare,_ He told himself as he looked around. He found his phone vibrating against the table and figured that it was what woke him up. He reached for it and answered without checking the name.

"Any change?" came Diggle's voice after a brief hello.

Looking at the girl lying in front of him, with a million tubes hooked into her, Oliver shook his head sadly then answered with an "I'll call you if there's any."

Once he hung up, Oliver put the phone down and took a deep breath to settle his storming brain. Nightmares always did that to him. Felicity was the only one who knew how to calm him down after one.

He longed for her comforting smile and babbling mouth, but most of all he missed her voice. The only upside about that nightmare, if you could see an upside there, was getting to hear her voice, and if a nightmare is what it takes to hear her voice again, then a thousand nightmares he'll go through.

Oliver sighed then leaned forward and grabbed Felicity’s limp hand. He missed the touch of her hands on his cheeks and the warmth that radiated from her. The hand he held was cold and he cupped it gently in both of his to warm it.

A couple of weeks after Felicity was admitted into this ward, Oliver had gotten hold of her cell to try and contact her relatives. After getting the job done, he had gone through every picture and video of them on it. He wasn't the type who liked people taking his pictures –an irony considering the number of interviews he had to deal with- but Felicity still managed to snap several shots of him on different occasions. His favorites were the ones with her in them. He moved from pictures to videos and watched each one several times, laughing through his tears at the silly ones of her dancing in their kitchen, and feeling bride surge inside him at the ones of her training with him or Diggle –they took those so she could see where she went wrong and fix it in later training sessions- but he found one video that had a strange title.

 _For Oliver. Just in case._ The title said.

He never opened that one.

Her cell phone sat in a drawer of a table by her hospital bed now. Oliver had put it there and never taken it out ever since that day. He sometimes called her number just to hear her voicemail message. It was in his weakest moments that he did so, but the message was in her beautiful voice with a quirky line at first then some babbling and a sighed  _I'll just call you back whoever you are_ and his laughter in the background as she ended the message.

Her glasses sat atop the same table and he made sure to keep those clean, so she could use them when she wakes up. The nurses tried to remove them more than once. He always put them back in place.

He kisses the inside of her hand lightly now as several memories attack him at once. They're good and they warm him for a second, but then he looks at his Felicity with a tube down her throat and he feels like he's the one incapable of breathing.

Looking at the drawer, he thinks what he thought a million times before; to take out the cell phone and watch that one video. He shakes the thought away. She'll tell him what's in it when she wakes up. Despite the fact that he knows what's in it –A goodbye. A last gift. Because Felicity Smoak wouldn't be  _Felicity Smoak_ if she didn't think ahead for a time like this.

A quick glance to the clock on the wall –followed by one to that drawer- tells him it’s 9 AM and therefore time to leave for work.

He sighs again, more loudly this time, and gets up slowly from his chair. He leans to kiss her forehead, and then starts whispering in her ear to wake up like he always does –except that he doesn't get to finish his plea this time; the room explodes with noise.

All the machines start screaming at once, the sound like shrieks of dying animals, lights flashing and lines going straight and  _oh god, oh god no no no no no this can't be happening._

The door bursts open as a swarm of nurses run to the bed and push Oliver –who has straightened up then froze in place- out of their way. A doctor comes in next and starts shouting orders and sprouting words that make no sense to Oliver. Nothing makes sense at the moment. Six months. He waited. She promised. She can't leave.

His brain gets only louder as the nurse raises her voice, trying to get him out of the room, and his thoughts become a loop of prayers and anger and desperation. The nurse pushes him an inch further and his sanity comes back with a snap. He realizes that only a few seconds have passed since the commotion started and he nods at the nurse then reaches for something in the drawer, before hurrying out of the room.

He can't stay and watch. He can't see her dying. So he just keeps walking until the sounds of wailing machines and doctors shouting  _clear_ fade into the background.

He's at the end of the hallway now and everything in him feels numb and hollowed. He slumps down on a metal bench and hangs his head like the coward he is. The vigilante of Starling city who couldn't stand witnessing the final moments of the woman he loves. What a hero. He almost starts laughing.

He would laugh if the pain in his chest wasn't too great. He would laugh if his breaths weren't coming in irregular bursts. He would laugh if the picture of Felicity smiling wasn’t imprinted in his mind. He would laugh if her voice didn't fell his ears. He would laugh if the color of her eyes wasn't everything he saw. He would laugh and laugh, if only not to sob.

He squeezes his eyes shut and waits for a nurse to find him. Any second now someone will come and tell him the time of death. He'd mark the day and hour so he could tattoo them over his heart. He'd mark them as the moment his heart stopped beating; for Felicity had always been his heart.

With shaking hands and blurry eyes, he reaches for the square object in his pocket. He isn't sure how he managed to snatch it in two seconds flat –vigilante reflexes and all- but he's glad he did. Blindly, he searches for the video he's been avoiding for months and hits play.

"Oliver Queen," Felicity's voice says and he takes a shuddering breath "um hey, so, if… um, okay. If you're watching this then I'm dead. Wow I sound like a mafia guy. Not that I know what a mafia guy would sound like? I never knew one before. Although I saw them on TV, it was that show I told –oh wait, not the point" she smacks her forehead, making him exhale on a shaky laugh "so the point, yeah. I'm dead. Not right now obviously but in the future, which sucks, but I obviously am anyway since you're watching this. I made it for you. I know how you are and I thought this may help"

She smiles sadly and his eyes blur again. Damn Felicity and her thinking ahead. Damn Felicity and her not waiting for him before leaving for that restaurant. Damn Felicity and her beautiful eyes tearing up as she starts talking again.

"So whatever it is that happened to me, let's make one thing clear; it wasn't your fault," Oliver shakes his head "and don't you dare shake your head at me" she points at the screen "I'm always right, remember?" she raises her eyebrows and he mutters a  _yes._

"Good boy, there you go! Whatever it was, you had no say in it and I don't blame you and you aren't going to blame you either." Oliver casts his eyes down as the tears come silently and tumble down his cheeks, and he honestly can't remember the last time he cried this much.

"Oh Oliver, I'm so sorry," she continues "for leaving you this way. I'm so so sorry. I know what I promised and I know I should have kept that promise and I'm sorry that I didn't. I'm not sure if you'll watch this in a week or in a year, but whenever it is, one fact remains, and that's the fact that I love you no matter what and no matter when. Till my last breath. Death can't change that. It can't really take me away because, cliché as it sounds, I'll be watching over you. I'll be fussing up a storm in heaven if you get injured and please don't do that, Oliver, and please be careful with your missions and don't overwork yourself. Please." She takes a deep breath and his heart aches so hard he could swear it's about to shatter "Take a breath Oliver. Breathe, sweetheart. You'll be okay." His tears aren't stopping but he allows a breath into his lungs.

 "There are a few things I kept for a day like this; a diary and some notes and a program I made for the computers that will make tracking easier, they're all in a box in our closet. Top shelf behind my jewelry box." Felicity's shoulders slump as she grabs a remote –obviously this was recorded on a camera first. "I had so much to say but I can't think of anything else now. Take care of yourself and of Diggle, and tell Thea she can have that stupid sweater of mine she liked so much and watch the rest of Doctor Who for me because I never knew what the Doctor's name is and you can tell me when you find out and… okay… I'm rambling again. I just don't want to say goodbye" she looks down and a tear makes its way down her left cheek "but goodbye is what I made this for. I love you. I'll always love you. And I know you love me too, but go on with your life, find someone to love and have little kids and be a sulky great dad and remember me. Please. Goodbye Oliver Queen, maybe I'll see you in another life."

The screen goes black and he buries his head in his hands. His world is crashing down and he keeps seeing her sad smile and hearing her loving words.

 _What am I still doing here?_ He thinks to himself in a rage.

Getting up in one swift motion, he runs back to the room like a wolf chasing its prey. He prays that she is breathing, even if her heart is losing its beats and even if her body is giving up, he has to touch her one last time. He has to be there as she leaves this world. But it's been thirty minutes at least since he left, and he knows that he lost his chance. He still runs.

As he reaches the room, he sees a cluster of doctors surrounding the bed, the nurses holding a white sheet and the breathing machine getting rolled out of the room, which stops him dead in his tracks.

 _So, it's done,_ he thinks numbly.  _She's gone now._

Slowing to a walk, he drags his feet towards the room and stands in the door frame. He can't see the bed because of the nurses and doctors blocking his view but they're murmuring and unhooking machines and IV lines.

His loud exhale draws attention to him and a nurse turns pitying eyes on him before tapping another on the shoulder. The two nurses tell the others to clear out the room, and then one of them turns back to him and… smiles.

The people in the room step back from the bed and walk out one by one as he stands frozen. Staring. His heart is about to stop.

"She's a fighter that one" the nurse nods to the bed as she's the last to walk out, her hand brushing his shoulder, smile planted in place.

He stares at the bed. Blue grey eyes stare back at him.

"Do I look that bad?" her voice comes like a palm to his wounds. It sounds scratchy and unused, and she grimaces at it, but it's  _her_ voice "No sleeping beauty remark then?" she adds after a moment. "And here I thought some Disney references may come out of this" she smiles then cocks her head to the side "Oliver, come –" a cough "ugh they said I shouldn't talk much yet."

"You're not dead," his voice is shaky but it's there and his brain is still trying to catch up "you're awake. Alive."

"A good deduction," Her smile is laced with tiredness and he almost laughs at the sight of it, but he really can't because this has got to be a dream. An illusion, maybe. Maybe he went into shock. He must be imagining things.

"How?" he breathes out.

"Beats me," she shrugs then winces in pain. "Said something about shock and heart failure and I'm pretty sure the word  _miracle_  was thrown in there somewhere. Too big a word before 10 AM, if you ask me."

"So, planning on spending the day by the door?" she groans as she tries to raise her hand, probably to get him to move, and his legs finally remember how to work. He rushes to her side. A second later he’s holding her to his chest.

It's surreal and he still thinks he's dreaming, but then again, hospitals may see tears and prayers, but they also see miracles; a new baby born, a life restored after a heart stopped beating, a person awakening after months of sleep. A miracle, and who was he to deny they happened all the time.

He hugs her tight and inhales sharply as she hugs back gingerly; he never thought he'd feel those arms around him ever again. He brings her water and strokes her hair as she drinks it from a straw. He listens when she starts to reassures him, over and over, that she is here breathing and alive. It's a while later that the tears come and he sobs into her shoulder, while her own tears soak his shirt.

He tells her of the past few months and of his sleeping in a corner. He tells her of desperate prayers and sleepless nights, and he tells her the reason he was late that fateful night –which draws out a teary smile out of her and a demand to see the ring as soon as possible– and he looks into her eyes until the color becomes everything he sees and wishes to see for the rest of his life.

Oliver queen had waited a year before kissing Felicity Smoak. He had waited another before he confessed his love to her. He waited six months for her to open her eyes, and he'll wait a couple more before making her his wife.

He knows she'll say yes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys liked this chapter, and I'd love to hear what you thought about it. Did you guess the trick or fall for it? Anyway, we only have one more chapter to go, and I'll hopefully get around to posting it tomorrow.
> 
> Reviews/kudos would be most appreciated. Thank you for reading, and do tell me what you think.


	3. 2 months later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the amazing response to this story, and I'm sorry for any tears or pain I might have inflected (but not really(.
> 
> I honestly don't even know what this chapter is. I spent so much time editing it -or trying to- that it stopped making sense to me but I hope you guys like it anyway.

Oliver wandered aimlessly around the house. Two months had passed and he was incapable still of getting a grip on his nightmares. Two months and his body still refused to obey him when it came to sleep.

Sleep never came easily to Oliver before but he used to manage, unlike the past couple of months where it became next to impossible for him to fall asleep anytime before dawn. Not unless he exhausted himself into a stupor. In the past couple of months Felicity made it clear that she didn't agree of that method, so he opted to stay with her until she fell asleep most nights then slip out of bed and wander around the house. Much as he did tonight.

In all honesty, given how small their apartment was, there wasn't much wandering around to do. It took him all of five steps to cross the hallway and a few more to circle the living room, and then he walked to the kitchen and back. Obviously, he could just go out and walk the streets, but sleepless nights weren't the only problem that got thrown out of proportion; he had gotten, if possible, even more protective than he used to be.

Even before anything happened, Oliver worried about Felicity –reasonably enough to make sure he always knew where she was and how long it took to get to her- but ever since she woke up, he wouldn't let her out of his sight even for five minutes. Which understandably formed a problem given her working at the company in daylight, and since Oliver Queen moving his workplace to Felicity's office didn't quite work out, he decided to assign her four bodyguards; a decision to which she argued mercilessly until he relented and kept only one of them. Although he still worried about her, the bodyguard managed to put some of Oliver's worry to rest.

Now if only he could find something to have that effect on his sleeping patterns.

A few hours of wandering later, Oliver was too bored, with only tense muscles and a racing mind to keep him company –which is why he decided that six hours of sleep were enough for anyone.  _Anyone_ , in this scenario, being Felicity.

Once he made up his mind to wake her, Oliver headed into their bedroom and attempted to shamelessly annoy Felicity into waking up. It wasn't going well so far.

It may have been selfish on his part, given that it was two in the morning, but he reasoned that he couldn't sleep and he really wanted her to get up. He reckoned that he  _had_  tried to sleep at first, but after two hours of lying in bed wide awake, then wandering aimlessly around the apartment for a couple hours more, he had the right of pleading boredom. During his sleepless hours he had fixed that burnt light bulb she told him about earlier. He had taken out the garbage, checked the broken dish washer, and when he ran out of things to fix he tried to make something to drink but ended up almost setting off the fire alarm. The poor device now sat on the kitchen counter in pieces, and that won't be fun to explain in the morning.

 _It's strange how much rest someone still needs after sleeping for six months._ He thought now as his hand stroked her cheek.

Felicity's eyes fluttered a little. She swatted his hand away with a scrunch of her nose but moved closer to him, burying her head in his shoulder and letting her hair cover the visible part of her face to effectively cut off his attempts at waking her. He sighed, although a smile painted itself to his features, and proceeded to play with her hair instead. One way or another, he was getting her to wake up.

As his hand moved through her blonde locks, Oliver mused at how he had forgotten what smiling felt like. The thing with sadness is that it cloaks you so completely and drowns you so sweetly that you forget what the little things felt like. Things like the sound of laughter or the warmth of a smile were all but gone for him, but then his Felicity opened her eyes and those things started seeping back into his life.

He had built his walls back up those past six months –and it was taking him longer than expected to put them down again- but each time she laughed at something or gave him that smile, he felt a crack running through said walls. It was exactly how she had gotten him to fall in love with her in the first place; with her soft smiles and babbling mouth that said the wrong words too often, but also produced the right ones when Oliver needed those most.

He grinned as he moved on from playing with her hair to tugging at her arm. He knew that it'll probably get him smacked but manage to wake her up in the process. A winning bet, if you ask him.

"Not gettin' up I said" Came Felicity's muffled voice as her hand grabbed his in an attempt to stop him.

"You've been sleeping for the past six hours," Oliver protested, and if he was slightly pouting then no one needed to know. "Actually you've spent most of the past five weeks sleeping."

"Is tired." she mumbled and he shook his head.

"I told you that you didn't need to go back to work so soon," he poked at her side. She squirmed away with a groan. "You're just too stubborn to listen, then you get yourself exhausted and I can't see you when we get home."

Felicity answered with something unintelligible to that.

"Can't hear you sleepyhead." Oliver chuckled then poked her side again.

Felicity huffed and raised her head slightly to look at him with one eye open and the other closed "I said," she yawned "It's not my fault you managed to screw up three years worth of functioning programs in two months flat" She thought a bit then added "And add insult to injury by downloading a virus. How on earth did you manage that one anyway?" the technical work was waking her up and Oliver suppressed a triumphant grin.

"That was all Diggle," He said, and it's not like he was ratting the other man out or anything; Diggle  _did_ majorly screw up the system and he told Felicity as much himself. "I didn't so much as touch the computers when you were– "

Oliver's words trailed off. The incident was still a sore subject to him; he refused to even acknowledge the previous six months out loud after that first day Felicity woke up. They had talked about it when she woke up two months ago and never again ever since.

"When I was what?" his fiancé raised her eyebrows with a new found alertness, spotting the opportunity to make him talk and latching onto it.

"When you were nothing," He answered. "Go back to sleep. Goodnight." He threw his arm over his eyes and felt the bed shift when Felicity sat up.

"Oh now you want to sleep, pretty boy?" She scoffed at him. He could practically hear her eyebrows rising and couldn't help but smile "Well, tough luck because I'm fully awake. Up!"

If anything, that got him to tighten the muscles in his arms and sink deeper into the mattress. He hoped that she'd get distracted from the useless conversation or simply give up and go back to sleep. He should have known better.

"You're not waking me up at 2 in the bloody morning only to pretend you're sleeping, Oliver." Felicity said as she threw her arms up, and Oliver couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh, bloody!" He mocked "we're going British now?"

"Oh shut up," She rolled her eyes with a grin. "I was reading Harry Potter in my break earlier-" She almost started babbling about wizards and dead pets but caught herself and remembered the task at hand. "Honestly Oliver," And there went his grin "We'll have to talk about it at some point."

"We did talk," His tone lost the light quality it had a second ago and slipped into his Arrow one. "We talked the day you woke up and that was enough talking."

"If you want to pretend that it all just went away that day then fine, so be it, but at least have the decency to look me in the eyes when you say that." Felicity spoke in a level tone, but her frustration showed in the way she crossed her arms and jutted out her chin.

Oliver moved faster than she could comprehend. One moment he was lying down with an arm thrown over his face, the next he was staring at her with greens as hard as stones. "There is  _nothing_ to talk about." He growled.

"Oh? So the blanket I found by the column in the lair is nothing, and your father's half empty list is nothing, and the fact that you still can't sleep at night is nothing. Oh and my favorite, the elaborate alarm system you installed here last week!" He opened his mouth to protest but she pointed a finger at him. "And don't you dare deny it. I'm not a fool, Oliver." She took in a deep breath and stared back stubbornly at him.

"Oliver, you asked me to marry you and I said yes.. But how on earth are we going to share a life if you won't share what's bothering you with me?" Her tone went soft at the last few words, and she grabbed his hand as if she feared he'd get up and run if she didn't hold him –and maybe, if it was anyone else, he would have. But this was Felicity.  _His_ Felicity. Oliver knew that he couldn't run away from her anymore than he could do so from himself.

"You know why I can't sleep," He dropped his gaze and flexed his jaw. "You saw what happened the first week I tried to sleep normally again."

"Nightmares," Felicity sighed then reached for his right hand to fiddle with the silver band sitting there. "It was just the first week, Oliver. You didn't even try afterwards. You can't spend the rest of your life not sleeping. The island's nightmares went away eventually didn't they."

"Those are worse," He breathed out then chanced a look at her. She nodded for him to continue. "I still dream of it.  _That_ night. I dream of.. well, it doesn't matters what the details are. Still the same thing. Losing you. Always losing you."

Oliver may be capable of clearing off the streets of Starling city of criminals, and he may move as fast as a monkey child and jump off of buildings or take out twenty men on his own, but the one things he was really bad had always been this. Voicing his fears. This little admission took a lot of courage and time to finally come out, and Felicity knew that too.

"It's never going to happen again, Oliver," Her voice didn't hold pity –she knew he hated that- and it didn't hold sadness –although he could see that in her eyes- but it held lightness and the promise of a smile instead. "You're not going to lose me. You're kind of stuck with me now," She pointed at their rings. "For better or for worse."

"We're not married yet, so that doesn't apply," He retorted but his tone was lighter as well, and he felt a smile tugging at his lips. "Try it again in a few months."

"Rude! Of course it counts now as much as it would then," Her teasing smile turned a bit nervous by the end, and after a moment's hesitation she added, "And when is  _then_ , by the way?" Oliver started to answer but Felicity cut him off with an urgent tone. "Not that I'm trying to rush you because you already proposed and I know that's a big deal and it's been only a week but I have a wedding dress in mind and I was thinking I could go for a fitting before someone buys it but I didn't even see it myself it was Thea who suggested it and Diggle kept teasing me the other day about the Queen's heir getting married and needing-" She took a deep breath, causing Oliver to choke down a gleeful laugh. He couldn't remember the last time he heard one of her rants. "A huge wedding and that got me nervous because it obviously needs preparing and–"

She stopped midsentence when a pair of lips crashed into hers, which put an end to her rant effectively and if any trace of sleep was lingering behind her eyelids then it fled at this turn of events. The kiss didn't last long because Oliver couldn't help the smile fighting to occupy his lips. The smile made itself pronounced when he pulled back.

"That," he started "Was one of your best rants yet. You lost me at Thea. I'm impressed." He finished with a sheepish grin.

Felicity gave a nervous laugh then raised her hand to adjust her glasses –which she wasn't wearing- out of habit.

"So, basically, we need to figure out the wedding's time or your sister will kill me," She blushed slightly as she amended. "But like I said if you feel –"

Sensing another rant coming up, Oliver raised a finger to her lips with an amused look.

"I don't feel rushed, or I wouldn't have proposed to begin with." It wasn't the most romantic thing he could have said, but his eyes were getting heavy all of a sudden and he could feel the pull of sleep. "We'll talk more about it tomorrow and set a date. Right now? I want to sleep," He removed his finger and smiled at the woman now staring at him with raised eyebrows. "As in actual sleep without exhausting myself into it, I think it could work, and if I have any nightmares.." He trailed off with a suggestive smirk.

"Then you have me, to  _talk_ to," She teased, "And hot cocoa and there's a new show we can start," Felicity offered. "Although just so you know, this talk isn't over and you'll have to promise to wake me up if anything happens –no tickling though."

"Okay," Oliver grinned as an idea sprung to life and sleep was quickly forgotten. "No tickling. Got it" His smile said otherwise and Felicity had all of one second to guess what was about to happen before he lunged at her and tickled her into a heaving mess of laughter.

The thing about Felicity's laughter is that it didn't only send cracks through Oliver's walls, no, her laughter melted those walls away all at once, and as he felt another wall crumbling, his grin came a little more naturally and the light in his eyes shined a bit brighter.

Yes, they still needed to talk, and yes there'll be many more sleepless nights, but whenever those came he'll have a small apartment to wander through and a loving blonde to annoy into waking, and that alone should be enough to make anyone happy.

With that in mind, and for the first time in a very long while, when Oliver closed his eyes to sleep that night, he believed that  _happiness_ is what the future held for him.

For both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that marks the end of this story. I might one day right a proposal scene for this universe, but that's a far-off shot, as it is I hope you liked this chapter and I'd be thrilled to hear what you think.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Stay awesome!


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